After My First Visit
One Man's Experience Of Peace
I didn’t come here looking for therapy or answers. Mostly, I was tired — of holding things together, of pretending to be fine, of feeling scattered between all the parts of my life that never seemed to join up.
I didn’t come here looking for therapy or answers. Mostly, I was tired — of holding things together, of pretending to be fine, of feeling scattered between all the parts of my life that never seemed to join up.
What happened wasn’t what I expected. There were no instructions, no deep talk about self-improvement, no sense of being analysed or “worked on.”
Just space — quiet, uncluttered, real.
We sat for a while, talked a bit, then didn’t talk. The silence at first felt strange, almost awkward.
But after a while, it stopped feeling empty. It started to feel like breathing — slow, steady, unforced.
Taking off clothes, watches, the usual armour, wasn’t about exposure; it was about letting the noise drop away.
I felt seen, but not inspected.
I could just be — without needing to explain myself or make something happen.
When I left, nothing dramatic had changed, yet something had. The weight I didn’t know I was carrying had eased.
I felt more whole, more at ease in my own skin. My life was still my life — but I wasn’t fighting it anymore.
This isn’t a fix or a formula. It’s a reminder of something I’d forgotten: that peace doesn’t arrive when everything’s solved. It’s what’s left when you stop trying to fix everything.
